


Closed Off

by GraceRB



Series: The Profound Bond [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Awkwardness, Castiel POV, Dating, Dean Winchester is sweet, Dean Winchester seems like an asshole, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Gentle Sex, Gentle touches, M/M, Misunderstandings, Quiet Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is in college, Shy Castiel, Shy Dean, Top Castiel, Top Dean Winchester/ Bottom Castiel (briefly), blind dates, cute dating, first person POV, mainly Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, touches mean a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 18:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceRB/pseuds/GraceRB
Summary: Dean Winchester is that one guy that Castiel has heard a lot about never never met before. He's heard stories, seen pictures, and thinks he's cute. But when Castiel gets set up on a blind date wit Dean, Dean is not at all what he expected."Sounds like a jerk, your brother."Sam sighed and waved me off. "He's a sweet guy, he just doesn't show it very often."
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: The Profound Bond [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170305
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Closed Off

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally two parts, but i combined them! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, I know there's top Dean (which if you know me, it's not my favorite) but there's also top Cas!
> 
> Update: I updated the Top/Bottom tags! Thank you to THE_EMPTY for your insight :)

I looked up and saw Sam Winchester come into the library. "Hello, Sam," I waved to him.

"Hey, Cas," He smiled. "Do you have any new theology textbooks?"

"Yes, actually," I stood and walked him over to the religious section. I pointed out our new arrivals on the shelves, tapping the book spines with one finger. "Here's one, published about a month ago. Oh, here's another one that's got some chapters on demonology, it's a bit older, but it still has all of the information you're looking for -- I think." I shot Sam a wide-eyed look, then smiled, and he laughed.

"Thanks, Cas," He smiled, and clapped me on the shoulder. His phone started to ring, "Oh, hold on, it's my brother."

"Sure," I nodded, and took the books off the shelf for him, stacking them in my arms.

"Hey, what's up, Dean?" Sam asked. He turned away from me, and hissed into the phone. "No, I'm at the library -- don't call me a nerd! You know what? I don't need this right now." He paused to listen for a moment. "Yes, I'll be home soon -- I won't forget the fucking pie, Dean." He hung up and threw his head back in a sigh, "Jesus christ."

I raised my eyebrows, that instinctive expression of awkwardness. I turned back to Sam, who now looked very annoyed, and showed him the stack of books in my arms. "Sounds like a jerk, your brother."

Sam sighed and waved me off. "He's a sweet guy, he just doesn't show it very often." He grabbed the books, and we walked over to the checkout counter. "Thanks for helping me out. I guess I have to go now."

I checked his books, and he put them in his bag. "Well I'll see you later, and the books are due back next Friday."

"Thanks," Sam nodded, and tapped the counter. He started to walk away, but then stopped and came back. "Cas, I don't mean to be forward. Would you like to go on a date with my brother?"

I blushed faintly, and nodded. "I mean, sure, if you think we'll work out," I looked back at him. "I'm always up for a blind date."

"Okay, cool," Sam looked at his watch. "I'll text you the details later, okay?" He pointed at me and walked out of the library.

I stood there wondering what I had just agreed to. I'd never met Dean before, but Sam had shown me pictures and mentioned him every time we talked. Dean seemed like he might be sweet, but the way Sam talked to him on the phone made me doubt that sometimes.

Then another customer walked up and I flashed a smile, and Dean left my thoughts for a while.

***

I was sitting in the restaurant, alone.

I had gotten there about twenty minutes early and was sipping on a whiskey to pass the time. Sam had sent me a better picture of what Dean looked like, so I was just watching the door and waiting. He looked like my type, light eyes, freckles, blonde-ish hair, nice build, and toned muscles. Although, I noticed he covered his body with loose shirts and baggy jeans.

Before I knew it he was coming in the door, walking towards me and sitting down across from me at the table. He was wearing a simple button up tucked into what looked like dress pants. "Dean Winchester, nice to meet you."

"Hello, Dean," I reached out a hand to shake, but he just looked at my hand like he didn't know why I was holding it out to him. I pulled it back and set it on my lap. "That's alright. Um, how are you?"

"Fine," Dean sipped at the glass of water on his side of the table. "You?"

"I'm doing good, actually," I nodded. I scratched the back of my neck, and looked at him again. "I'm a little nervous, to be honest. I haven't been on a date in awhile."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "So Sam set you up with  _ me _ ." It seemed like it should have been a question, but it wasn't. He nodded in resignation, and pressed his lips into a firm line. "Alright, I get it."

I canted my head at him, "Why do you sound upset?"

"My brother is just -- he always does stuff like this," Dean grumbled and gulped down the rest of his water. "He gets annoyed with me and tries to distract me with --" He gestured towards me with one hand, and stammered out, "Hot, uh -- blind dates... with people I don't, uh, know."

I smiled a little.  _ Did he think I was hot? _ "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way," I took a swig of my whiskey. "But I'm glad you decided to come."

Dean looked away, hiding half his face from me, and quietly said, "Then I guess I'm not entirely disappointed." He was strange, and a little rude, but I thought maybe there was something more to him.

We ate dinner together, quietly, but when I asked questions he answered, although they were usually short. His facial expression didn't really change either, it was a stoic one, and hard like stone. I felt a little nervous under his gaze, but his eyes were so... he was undeniably attractive.

He asked me only a few questions. "What do you do?"

"I work at the library. That's actually where I met Sam."

Dean nodded, "Oh, right. He always talks about you," His eyes widened the slightest bit. "I mean his friends. He always talks about his friends."

"What does he say about me?" Dean cleared his throat, and I thought I saw him blush. But in a few seconds it was gone. I brushed it off, and drank some more of my whiskey. "You don't have to answer that. Should we get dessert?"

"I like pie," Dean said quietly.

"We can get pie," I nodded.

He got a piece of blueberry, and scarfed the whole thing down in less than a minute. I watched him with my mouth agape, and he grumbled at me, "What?"

"I have never seen someone eat so fast before."

He raised his eyebrows, "Are you wondering what else I can do with my mouth?"

I nearly spit out my drink. "Well, no, I wasn't," I coughed lightly. "But I am, now." And I was -- those eyes looking up at me, those lips kissing me, those fingers touching me everywhere -- I imagined he was a guy who liked it fast and rough.

He smirked for the first time, a small crooked grin, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Maybe I could deal with rough. "Interesting," He sipped at his drink.

When dinner was over, he paid, and only got up when I did. He walked me to my car, silent the whole way, but he was writing something down on a small piece of paper as we went. When I stopped, he almost ran into me from behind but stopped just in time. I was mildly upset, considering he hadn't touched me at all, not even accidentally.

"This is my car," I said, getting my keys from my pocket.

"Alright," He said, not coldly but close to it. He finally stretched out his hand to shake mine, but was actually handing me a folded piece of paper. I took it, and our fingers brushed together. "Call me tomorrow." Then he nodded once and walked away.

I leaned back against my car door, and watched him, sort of surprised. Then I looked down at the paper, and written neatly on it was  _ Dean Winchester _ , and below that, his phone number.

I thought about the whole date, and wondered if he even liked me. He didn't say much, but maybe he was just quiet. He hadn't really smiled either, only the smirk when he had made me flustered. And he only touched me once, but that was more of a graze, really. But somehow I got his phone number.

This man was a puzzle, and I had no idea how to figure him out.

***

"How was the date?"

"What?"

"How was the date?"

I was at work, trying to find a book on one of the shelves for Sam, who was standing next to me. Apparently I had been lost in thought because I was just not comprehending his question. "Which date?"

Sam furrowed his brows. "The one with Dean. I thought it was last night. Did he stand you up?"

"Oh," I said, " _ That _ date. No, he showed up."

"So, how was it?" Sam asked a third time. After a moment, he added, "I'm dying of suspense over here."

I shook my head, simply out of confusion. "I -- I don't understand your brother."

Sam chuckled, one short bark. "What do you mean? What did he do?"

"Nothing," I tapped a book's spine and pulled it off the shelf. Then I faced Sam and handed it to him. "But that's the problem. He did absolutely nothing."

"Hmm," Sam said, taking the book, looking at it for a second, then tucked it under his arm. "He didn't try to kiss you or anything?"

"No, but he did make a sex joke," I smiled when I thought about it, because it hindsight it was pretty funny. "He gave me his phone number, though, and told me to call him today."

Sam raised his eyebrows, like I had made a big achievement. "He did?"

"Yeah," I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're being strangely quiet, Sam. Do you know what he's doing? Please, tell me."

He chuckled, and raised a hand in defense. "I don't know, not really. I've only seen him do it a few times before. But I'm pretty sure it means he likes you."

"What is he, like, a cat or something?"

Sam laughed loudly, and I smiled at him. He actually had to walk away before returning to our conversation. "My brother is pretty weird sometimes."

"But, really, Sam," I touched his shoulder gently, to ensure that this moment would stay serious. "Should I worry about Dean?"

He shook his head. "No. When he likes someone he usually is just trying to protect them."

I canted my head and let go of his shoulder. "Protect them from what?"

He pursed his lips and shook his head again. "He's never told me." He glanced at his watch. "Oh, I have to get going. Don't forget to call him."

"Okay, bye, Sam," He walked over to counter and checked out his book, then rushed outside to a black Impala sitting out front by the curb. The engine was running, and I thought I could see Dean in the driver's seat.

It was later in the day when I got off my shift at the library. I went home, and sat on my couch, staring at my phone in one hand and the piece of paper Dean had given me the night before in the other. He didn't say when to call, so I had been thinking about it all day. I decided to wait until I was done with work, just in case it became one of those calls that you never want to end.

It... wasn't that type of call.

I typed the phone number into a new contact, and added Dean's name, as well as one of the pictures Sam had sent me. Dean was wearing headphones, in the picture, with a black zip up hoodie underneath a large leather jacket, and he was curled up on a couch, green eyes staring into space. Sam had told me the story behind it, that Dean was listening to a sad song for the first time, and immediately after the picture was taken, Sam had been tackled and punched. I laughed at the time, but thinking about it now, I wondered why Dean had done that. I guessed it made sense -- you could almost see tears in Dean's eyes -- he was probably just embarrassed. Regardless, it was my favorite picture of him, out of the very few I had seen.

I dialed the number, taking a huge deep breath, and waited as it rang four times. "Hello?" It was Dean's low and husky voice on the other end.

"Hey, Dean. It's Cas," I said. "You told me to call today, so -- yeah." I slammed my palm into my face.  _ When did I get so awkward? _

"Oh, right," Dean replied, like he forgot he'd said that.

"Is this a good time? I can call back --"

"Now's fine."

"Oh, okay. Cool," I took another deep breath and stared at my ceiling. "So... did you want to talk to me about something?"

Dean made a noise that could only go with a shrug. "Just wanted to see if you were free tomorrow."

"Well I have work from nine to four," I said, already feeling the blush on my face. He was asking me out, but still I didn't feel like he wanted to be around me. It was weird, and I just could  _ not _ read his signals. "But after that I'm free."

"I'll pick you up at four then. I'll wait out front. I drive a black '67 Impala."

"Oh -- um, okay," I kind of wanted to go home and shower before that, but I could shower before work instead. I also wondered what I would do with my car -- I didn't want to just leave it in the parking lot.  _ I guess I could take the bus to work instead? _ "What are we going to --"

He cut me off, and said, "Don't worry about it. See you tomorrow. Four. Black Impala." Then he hung up.

I dropped my phone from my ear, hearing my hand thunk onto my thigh.

That had to be the shortest, and strangest, phone call ever. And I got asked out on a second date. I never would have expected Dean to do such a thing. He seemed more interested in me as a friend than a boyfriend, and I didn't really know how to feel about that.

***

The next morning I woke up early and showered, washing my hair and body extra well. Just in case Dean had... plans.

I took the bus to work, and it went by normally, with nice soccer moms taking their kids to story time, little old ladies checking out magazines, and old men who usually got books on war or boats. I smiled at them, but really felt bad that they felt they could only get "manly" books.

I wondered if Dean felt like he had to be “manly”, too. 

Like Sam had said the day before, Dean hid his emotions when he liked someone. So that meant that if he liked me, he probably wouldn't tell me. I hoped he'd be able to tell me, though, and if not now, then at some point. Eventually. (The thought of waiting for weeks or months or even years made my heart sink a little.)

So when my watch beeped four times, I broke my stare with the wall and put on my sweatshirt somewhat hesitantly. I said goodbye to my coworkers and stepped outside, putting my hands in my pockets.

And right on cue, I looked up and saw a black Impala sitting there, next to the curb with the engine running. I went over to the window and leaned down to see Dean looking back up at me. "Hey, Cas," He said with a small smile.

"Hello, Dean," I replied. "Can I get in?"

"Course you can," His smile widened a bit.

I straightened up and wiped my mouth, feeling the heat on my cheeks already. I opened the door -- it made an awfully loud squeak -- and sat down on the bench that was the front seat. I put my hand on it, next to my leg, as I reached to close the door.

Dean put his hand on mine for a moment, curling the tips of his fingers between my pointer finger and thumb, and squeezed once. I gasped, because despite the brief touch, my skin tingled. I looked at him, to see if he had meant to do that or something, but his head was already turned forward and he hit the gas.

He turned out of the parking lot and onto the road, and we started driving down a street I didn't recognize. "So, um," I swallowed nervously, glancing from the street to Dean. "Where are you taking me, exactly?"

"I'm not kidnapping you, if that's what you're worried about," He chuckled. He glanced at me, realizing I was still waiting for an answer. "My place."

I raised my eyebrows, "Oh," I nodded a few times. "What are we gonna do at your place?"

Dean chuckled again. "Keep it in your pants, man. We're just gonna watch a movie."

I blushed again and looked away. "What’s the movie called?"

"It's a western with Eastwood,  _ The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly _ . You'll like it."

"I've heard of it," I said. "Never seen it, though."

"Oh!" It was an excited sound. "This will be more fun than I thought."

He looked at me again and he had the cutest fucking smile on his face. I wanted to kiss him right there. But I didn't. I was still unsure of what he thought about me, and also he was driving. I didn't want to cause a crash.

"I'm glad," I smiled back, and wrung my hands together -- mostly just because I was itching to put my hand on his knee. I really didn't want him to pull away.

We got to his apartment pretty quickly. He parked his car and walked me upstairs, unlocking the door and sitting me down in front of the TV. He went into his kitchen. "Do you want a whiskey?"

"Uh, sure," I called over my shoulder. "With some ice, please."

He came back and handed me a glass, the ice clinking. "Here," He said. He walked around the side of the couch and sat down next to me.

We were sitting kind of close, because neither of us were leaning on the arms rests on the couch ends, but we weren't touching. "Thanks," I replied.

He simply nodded. "I just have two rules," He said, looking at me and holding his cup up to his lips to sip. I noticed he poured himself a double, no ice, and his hands were shaking slightly. His free hand held up two fingers. "No talking during the movie," His two fingers fell back to the cushions.

I nodded, "And the second rule?"

He opened his mouth, and closed it. He opened it again in a crooked grin, and his tongue flicked out to lick his lips. He met my eyes for a second, but then his gaze drifted downward to my lips. "Pause it if you're going to, y'know, make a move."

I tilted my head slightly, but made no move towards him. My eyes flickered away, but I brought them back quickly. "Does that mean... you  _ want _ me to make a move?"

He cleared his throat, licked his lips again and turned his face forward. He took another sip of his whiskey, and he relaxed back into the couch. "Well, you do what you want." His hand still shook a bit, but he drank a little more and the shaking slowed to a stop.

"Hmm," I nodded nervously. "I'll, um, I'll think about it."

He chuckled lightly, almost to himself. He looked at me again, with those undeniably sexy green eyes, and said, "Alright then, Cas." He faced the TV again and pressed play.

My eyes lingered on him for another moment, and I licked my lips before pressing them into a line. At least his signals were getting a little clearer. It was still like trying to look through mud, but at least he was smiling more. He even touched me. It was just my hand, but that was a million times better than our first date, where he seemed very disinterested and barely grazed me once.

I didn't kiss him then, mostly because I forgot about it.

The movie was actually really engrossing, that I completely forgot that he had basically asked me to kiss him. However, about halfway through the movie, I noticed his hand was resting between us. I reached over and hesitantly placed my hand on his. To my surprise, he didn't pull away. After a few minutes, he even flipped his hand over, so our palms were resting one on top of the other, and linked our fingers together.

He was still focused on the screen, intently focused on it, so I let my hand relax and continued watching the movie. I wondered if he just wanted a comforting touch, or if he was trying to tell me something. I let it drift from my mind, because it didn't seem that important in the moment.

When the movie ended, our fingers were still linked together. I looked over at him, then at the time. "So," I shifted my fingers a little bit, not to get him to let go, but he did anyway. I frowned a little. "Do you want to, um, get dinner? I'll pay this time." I added that last part as an incentive.

"Sure," He stood and picked up my empty whiskey glass. "Pick a place and I'll get my keys."

I picked a diner close to his apartment, and we sat at a booth close to the door. He didn't touch me again, but he smiled twice. The first time when I had ordered a burger instead of a salad, and the second when he told a joke that made me flustered, but laugh, too.

When we finished eating, I paid, and we both stood at the same time. We walked together to his car, and he held the door open for me. He had parked in a spot on the far side of the lot, so as we walked I held his hand. He didn't pull away from me, but turned his face so I couldn't see.

I smiled to myself. I figured he was flustered and that was pretty cute.

When we got to the car, we let go, and the only words spoken during the whole ride were from me, giving directions to my apartment. When he parked, he turned to me with this look in his eye. I couldn't describe exactly what it was I saw in those pools of green, but it made me want to kiss him. I glanced away, "What?"

He sighed softly and turned forward again. "Nothing," He shook his head. "Get home safe. Call me."

"Alright," I wrung my hands together again, and this time I gave into my urge to touch him. I rested my arm on top of the seat, and reached over to brush my fingers over his forehead and threaded them into his hair. "Thank you, Dean. I had fun with you."

He looked at me and his lips parted in faint surprise. He swallowed, and took my hand off his head, holding it gently, and he kissed the back of it. He turned his face away again, and said definitively, "Get home safe, Cas. Call me."

I nodded to him, and he let go of my hand, then used his own to partially cover his face. "Good night, Dean." I opened the obnoxiously squeaky door and got out, then walked to my building. I waved at Dean one more time before I went inside, and watched him drive off.

That night, I couldn't help but imagine what Dean's kiss would be like. Before, I would have thought his kiss would be aggressive and maybe rough. That he'd take me from behind and pull my hair and fuck my brains out.

But the way he was acting, all shy and hesitant, made me change my mind. Still, imagining him wanting me like that, even if it was rough, it was enough to make me... excited, and curious.

I called him the next day.

***

He took me on three more dates over the next two weeks.

For the first date, he hung out with me at my work, not pestering, but following me around the whole time. He didn't smile much, but he kept making jokes and holding my hand. By that point I figured that if he didn't like me, then I didn't really care. I liked him, and the more I was with him the more I realized, I liked him a lot.

For the second date, he made me dinner at his place, and we watched another movie,  _ Silence of the Lambs _ . That one I had seen before, but he said it was one of his favorites, so I didn't tell him. We watched it, and I held his hand during the scary parts because  _ Silence of the Lambs _ gets pretty weird. He smiled at me and rubbed my hand with both of his, which comforted me and made me flustered at the same time. I felt the urge to kiss him again, but didn't. When I left, I gave him a hug instead.

For the third date, he picked me up again and took me to a brand new movie showing. It was a horror movie, and I was convinced he brought me there just so I would curl up against him. He lifted the armrest between us, and offered me an arm, so I put it around my shoulders and hugged him from the side. I could hear his heartbeat, and it was pounding. I smiled, but the movie made me jump, so I pressed my face into the side of his neck. He made a small gasp, but I couldn't focus on it -- the screams from the movie were distracting.

His arm around my shoulders held me tightly, and his free hand came up to the side of my face, threading his fingers in my hair a little bit. "It's okay," He whispered to me. "You're okay." He pulled back and lifted my head so we were looking at each other. "Do you want to leave?"

I nodded miserably, so he took my hand and led me out to his car. When we were both in, I rubbed my face with my hands. "I'm sorry, Dean. You must think I'm a wuss."

"No, you're alright, Cas," He patted my shoulder comfortingly. "I wasn't sure if i should have taken you to that movie anyway -- to be honest it scared me, too."

I looked at him. Dean being honest? I wiped my eyes and looked at him again. "You mean that?"

"Yeah," He nodded. "I'll take you back to your place."

"Okay," So he started driving, and when we got to my apartment he parked to let me out. I looked over at him, and itched to hug him again. Instead, I rubbed my eyes, and asked, "Would you like to come upstairs?"

"Okay," He replied.

I was kind of surprised, but I was really glad he didn't want to leave. I smiled at him, "Come on, then." I was feeling kind of giddy, as I led him up to my apartment, holding his hand gently. He was calm and straight-faced, but held my hand tightly. When we got to my apartment door, I hesitated to reach for my keys. I turned to look at him, and asked, "Are you okay?"

He was close and green eyes were slightly downcast. "I'm fine," he said, and seemed like he was struggling to keep back. "I -- I'm gonna kiss you."

"Okay," I looked up at him, and reached my hands up and around his neck.

He leaned in slowly, shifting so one hand was on the back of my head and the other was on the small of my back. He pressed me back into the door and kissed me. It was unhurried, and so, so gentle. He parted his lips but didn't try to force anything on me, and just pressed me further into the door, and closer into his body.

I hummed against him, and licked at his lips. He let me in and I dipped my tongue inside, and I felt him make fists in my jacket and in my hair. He pulled away for a moment, resting his forehead against mine, and taking in a few heavy breaths. I slid my hands down to rest on his chest, and we met eyes for a second. I saw a look I couldn't describe, sort of like when he dropped me off at my apartment and kissed the back of my hand.

He pecked at my lips a few more times, and his fists unclenched a little. When he pulled away, his hand came out of my hair and held the side of my face instead. "I should -- I should probably go."

I creased my eyebrows at him, and lifted my hands from his chest. "If you want to," I wiped my mouth and glanced at him again. "You can -- you don't have to stay."

He was slow to let go, keeping his one arm around me and the other on the side of my face. He lifted my chin so I was looking up at him again, and pecked my lips one more time. "I'll see you around, Cas." We kissed one more time, not as deeply as before, but it felt more like he was reluctant to leave.

"Do you really want to go?" I asked. I touched the side of his face, and continued, "I don't really want you to."

He tilted his head at me, and let go -- he had been clutching me pretty close to his body -- then he said, "Really?" And it was the softest I had ever heard his voice.

"Really," I smiled and reached for my keys to unlock my apartment door. "And I need to at least make you dinner, especially after a kiss like that."

He chuckled lightly, and followed me inside.

***

I made him grilled cheese for dinner, and he ate almost three entire sandwiches. I would have been impressed if the circumstances were different. We sat quietly at my table, and kept our hands off each other like civilized people. I couldn't believe he was just sitting there like he hadn't just kissed me. 

Me, on the other hand -- my heart was pounding and I was seriously resisting touching myself because that kiss -- that kiss made my imagination run wild. I couldn't help but think he was standing up and walking over to me and taking off his clothes and kissing me and putting his hand in my pants -- "Hey, are you okay?"

I opened my eyes and looked at him, not half naked and not touching me. I swallowed nervously and moved my hands off my lap. "Yeah," My voice was strained.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

I nodded, "M-hmm." No, I was not fucking okay. I painfully hard and the person who caused it was just a few feet away and he wasn't touching me or kissing me -- I grumbled at myself because it was just too fucking awkward. What was I supposed to say,  _ hey, you're really hot right now, wanna have sex on my couch? _

I looked back at him and suddenly he was closer, kneeling next to my chair and looking up at me, with his hand resting on my thigh. "I'm having a hard time believing you, Cas."

I chuckled to myself. If only he knew what a hard time I was having. Then he was looking down at my lap and back up at me. I hid it with my hands, "Sorry. That kiss was a little... exciting." 

He looked confused, but most of all, surprised. He stood back up and rested against the edge of the table. He pointed at my lap, "Is that because of me?" 

I glanced away. Talk about blunt. I couldn't get myself to look back up at him and I didn't want to say yes, so I just nodded. 

His hand found itself under my chin and he tilted my head back. "Yeah?" His voice was quiet, but his eyes were wide and he was looking at me like I was the most fascinating thing in the world. He leaned down close to me, and his eyes darted over my face. "Do you like it when I kiss you?"

My body started to tremble a bit, and I nodded again. 

He moved so that he was straddling my legs, but didn't sit down on them. His fingers trailed from my chin and down my neck, coming to a stop just above the first open button on my shirt. I licked my lips, and trailed my gaze up his arm and back to his eyes. They were still staring at me like I was the only thing that mattered, and I couldn't help but whimper. "Dean," I held onto his wrist with one hand, and hoped my grip would tell him that this teasing was not funny. I tugged on his arm so that he would lean forward a little bit more, and glared up at him, "You better kiss me, now."

He smirked the slightest bit and leaned down even more, crashing our lips together. I stood up, because he was comfortably leaning against the table, and I needed some sort of friction. I leaned into him, pressing my hips and chest against his, and keeping our kiss deep. His arms wrapped around my waist, and he kissed down my chin to my neck. He left a trail of kisses and little love bites down to my chest. I let out a quiet moan, and his hand made a fist in the back of my shirt again. He pressed me even closer and I gasped, because my hardness was pressed in that good place against his hip. He paused and drew back to meet my eyes. "Cas, how far do you want to go with this?"

How could he ask something like that when he could practically feel me throbbing against him? I looked down at our hips, and realized I was the only one who was... excited. Maybe he was excited too, but I couldn't tell. He was so reserved and hid his emotions so well -- I couldn't tell.

So I took a step back, but I kept my hands on his shoulders just in case. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have --" I took another step back and covered my mouth with one of my hands. "I didn't mean to -- I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Cas," He said, but he didn't try to follow my movements or grab me again. His eyes dropped to the floor. "I think it's time I left." I didn't look up at him and didn't say anything to stop him. But I didn't want him to go. I felt his hand on the side of my face, and he kissed my forehead gently. "I'll see you around."

Then his hand left my face, trailing along the edge of my jaw and across my chin, and I heard my apartment door close. I walked over and locked it, then went back to the kitchen table, where Dean's empty plate and glass were waiting next to mine. I picked up the plate and threw it onto the ground.

It shattered, and I felt a little bit better. 

***

About another month passed. 

Dean took me on four more dates. He didn't initiate a kiss with me again, and he only ever let me peck his lips before he pushed me away. He held my hand a little bit, but never hugged me and certainly never straddled me again. 

I worried that he didn't want to be around me. I worried that I'd moved too fast and scared him off, but he was too nice to just break up with me. Or maybe he'd promised Sam he wouldn't break my heart. The thought of that alone made my heart sink.

So when he took me back to his place to make me dinner and watch a movie, I felt uneasy. I wanted -- no, I  _ needed _ to bring it up. 

We were sitting on the couch with miles of real estate between us. "Dean."

He looked over at me, and paused the movie. "Yeah?"

I looked at him and tried to keep my expression serious instead of sad. Despite that, I felt tears welling in my eyes, and I croaked out, "Do you like me?" I felt pathetic and I couldn't bear to watch him say no so I looked away.

"What?" His voice was as soft as silk, and quieter than a whisper.

I looked back at him. He was making this harder than it had to be. "You fucking heard me," My voice was rough and harsh and I regretted it immediately because he looked as heartbroken as I felt. My eyebrows creased together and I tried to hold back tears. "You've been taking me on dates, sure, but you haven't kissed me since that first time, and you just -- you're so confusing, Dean." I paused and watched him stare at me. "Do you even want me here right now?"

He took a few seconds to pull himself together, and moved to sit close next to me. He hugged me from the side. I wanted to push him off, but I could hear his heart pounding and when I looked at his face he looked deeply embarrassed. "Please, don't go," He whispered. 

I turned so we were facing each other, and wiped my eyes. "Then tell me why I should stay," I wanted the words to sound harsh, because I was still angry, but they came out quietly, and sounded pathetic instead. 

"I'm sorry," He whispered again, and his eyes shut tightly. "For being confusing. I just -- when you pushed me away after that kiss, I thought you didn't want me to kiss you like that. Or at all." He glanced up at me, then away again.

"I thought you didn't like me kissing you like that either," I laughed at myself and touched my forehead. "We should have just talked about it."

He chuckled and clutched at my hands. He didn't meet my eyes and he blushed furiously. "I really -- I -- I don't want to break up with you, Cas. And -- I'm not the kind of guy who walks around talking about how he feels all the time --" He met my eyes again, and put his hand on the side of my face. "So instead of talking, can I just show you?"

"Okay," I wiped my eyes again, and as soon as my hand left my face, he was kissing me. I was a little surprised, but he kissed me so sweetly that I closed my eyes and put my arms around him. He gently pulled away and stood, leading me by the hand to his room. "Dean?"

He opened his door, and turned his face away. "We're going to my bed," He glanced back at me. "Are you okay with that?" 

I nodded, even though I didn't know exactly what he wanted from me. I guess it should have been obvious. I followed him inside, and he sat me down on the bed, kissing me sweetly and lifting my shirt off slowly. "How exactly do you want to do this?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

I blushed a little and he kissed me again. He pulled back to take off his shirt -- I gawked a little because I'd never seen him so exposed before -- so I took that opportunity to ask. "How do you -- um, can we just go slow? I don't like it rough."

He furrowed his brows at me. "What makes you think I do?"

He kissed my neck, straddled me, and ran his hands up and down my back and sides. "I don't know -- ah!" He put one hand between my legs. 

When I yelped, he had immediately pulled back, "Is this okay?" 

"Yeah, sorry," I laid down on my back and he eased gently on top of me. "You just startled me."

He kissed me again, "I'm sorry," He said, looking into my eyes with that look, that made me feel like I was all that mattered. He sat up and reached for the button of my jeans. "Can I take this off?"

He was going too slow so I did it for him, and he peeled his own pants off and tossed them to the floor. "Come here," I pleaded with him and he returned, resting my head gently on a pillow behind me, and nestling in between my legs. 

He kissed me and nuzzled and hugged me close, and he pushed into me so gently, making sure I was okay the entire time and looking at me like I was the most fascinating thing in the world. He touched me all over with fingers and lips and didn't take his eyes off me for a second. He never stopped with the loving looks and loving touches and he was soft and gentle and -- loving.  _ Loving _ .

And that was when I realized, as we were kissing and moaning together, that he didn't just like me. 

He came first, and because I wasn't there yet, he pulled out and took me in his mouth. I moaned and threaded my fingers in his hair, and wrapped my legs around his body. He was gentle and his mouth really was magical -- my face was completely red and I couldn't stop saying, "Dean -- ah, Dean -- ah." And when I came he wiped his mouth and hugged me again, placing kisses on my neck.

He brought me back to my senses and I deliriously wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "Are you alright?"

I kissed him again and again, and nodded, hugging him a little tighter to my chest. "I think I finally understand, Dean."

"So you're not confused anymore?"

"No," I shook my head, and looked into his eyes. He looked happy enough to cry. "So. Does this mean you'll stop holding back around me?"

He lifted off me a little bit, and kissed me. "If that's what you want," he said in a husky voice. "I'll give it to you."

I made a small, needy noise in my throat, "Dean," I pulled him close in a kiss. "I want you. I want you to kiss me and hold me close. And I want to be with you all the time." He pulled back to look me in the eyes, and nodded, and that look in his eye came back. The one that made me feel like the most fascinating thing in the world. 

"Then I'll do it," And he kissed me again. 

***

After that night, we were inseparable. 

We didn't have sex every moment we were alone, but he kissed me more and hugged me and I swear that look in his eyes was telling me something, just like that night, with his loving touches and gentle kisses -- I just, for the life of me, I couldn't figure it out.

So when Sam invited me to join them at dinner one night, a week or so later, I enthusiastically accepted. Dean sat next to me at Sam's table, and kept his hand on my thigh. He placed it gently there when I sat down, and every time Sam looked away, Dean leaned over and kissed the spot right behind my jaw. I wanted to hold his head still and kiss him into the floor and ask him what that look in his eye meant.

I was never able to kiss him back, though, because he had moved away by the time Sam was looking at us again. So I just sipped my whiskey and put my hand on top of Dean's on my thigh, curling my fingers around it. 

"How are you guys doing?" Sam asked, looking from me to Dean. "You've been seeing each other for, what, a month or two?"

"Three, actually," Dean corrected. He squeezed my thigh gently, and I wanted to kiss him. 

"We're doing good, Sam," I smiled at him. "Thanks for asking."

He just nodded, and he didn't ask anymore questions. 

When we had finished eating, Sam grabbed us some beers and sat back down in his seat. We were sitting in a comfortable silence and he wasn't watching us, so Dean leaned over again and kissed my neck. I was watching Dean's hand creep up my leg to my hip, and regrettably stopped him before he grabbed anything.

Sam looked over at Dean and smirked knowingly at him. Dean just turned his face away and squeezed my thigh a little harder. I rubbed the back of his hand, and he looked back at me for a second. Sam turned away again, so I cupped Dean's cheek with my free hand and turned his face to me, and kissed him gently. 

He pulled away after a moment and gave me a small smile. 

I looked back at Sam, who looked up at me politely. Dean whispered in my ear, and squeezed my thigh again, "You wanna go back to my place?" His lips brushed against my cheek and I took in a quiet shaky breath.

I glanced over at Sam, and smiled at him. "So, I think we're going to go," I told him. "Thank you for having us."

I stood up, and held Dean's hand and pulled him out to his car. Before he could even open the door, though, I pinned him against it and kissed him. "Cas," He didn't try to push me away, so I kept kissing, and pulled him flush against me by his belt loops. "Cas, can we get in the car first?"

I grinned, "Yeah, I'm sorry," I wiped my mouth and glanced around, then walked around to the passenger side and got in. He started up the engine, and held my leg with his hand, pulling me closer by it. "Dean, when we get to your place," I paused and looked over at him. 

"Do you want to be on top? I'm not usually, it was just that one ti--"

"No, that's not what I --" He glanced over at me. "Well, yes, I'd like to, but that’s not what I was talking about."

"Oh," He grinned and looked away again. "What then?"

"Well, can we talk about us? Our relationship is still pretty new," I swallowed nervously because I'd never really done this before. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page." He started to let go of my leg, but I slammed his hand back down. "Not like that. I'm not breaking up with you, if that's what you're scared of."

He flinched a little and parked in his apartment's lot. He turned off the car and moved towards me, clutching my face with one hand and pulling it towards him. "Damn straight," He kissed me, and pulled away to get out of the car. "Now, come on, let's go upstairs."

I smiled at him and followed him to his apartment. 

We collapsed onto his bed, peeling off shirts and pants and shoes, kissing soundly and he moved me to lay on top of him and in between his legs. He moved his hips against mine and kissed my neck, and I whispered to him, between heavy breaths, "Is there any position you want to try?"

He shook his head. "This is for you," He kissed me again. 

I lifted off him a little bit. "You don't want anything for yourself?"

His face turned red a little and he hid it behind his hand. "You already let me show you how I feel about you..." His legs tightened against my torso. He looked into my eyes, with that fascinated look. "So this is for you."

I shrugged and kissed him again. "I know you live by the whole 'actions speak louder than words' thing," I held the side of his face. "But I need you to use your words sometimes."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You just want me to say it," he grumbled. "You like watching me get all flustered and shit?"

"Yes," I smiled, and nodded at him. "You're stalling."

His arms uncrossed and he slid them around to the small of my back. He took in a breath and looked away. "Cas," He started, but I grabbed his chin. "What?"

"Look at me, if you're going to say it."

"Fine," He grumbled again. His arms pulled me into him further, and he kept his eyes on mine. He cleared his throat a few times, and his hands balled into shaking fists on my back. His eyes darted around, but always returned to mine. He took in a deep breath, and licked his lips lightly, "I love you," He whispered. He clamped his eyes shut after a few seconds, then hugged me closer to his chest, holding the back of my neck so I couldn't pull away. "You don't have to say it back."

I tried to pull back to meet his eyes, but he wouldn't let me. "Are you scared I won't say it back, or are you scared I will?"

"I don't know," He mumbled against my shoulder. 

His arms loosened around me, so I sat up a little. "I'm glad you said it," I kissed him gently. "You know," I brushed my fingers into his hairline above his forehead, down his cheek and chin to his neck, where I placed little kisses on his collar bones. "I love you, too."

I drew back again, and he looked at me with wide eyes -- full of that fascinated look again -- and gawked at me. He pressed his lips into a line and closed his eyes. "Please," He pulled my hips further into his, making me yelp a little. "Show me."

His face was flushed, and he was panting lightly beneath me. We were both growing harder by the second, and his pupils were blown, full of that look that was starting to drive me wild. I kissed him soundly and reached my hands down to the waistband of his boxers. I peeled them off and kissed down his chest and stomach, then took him in my mouth. I went slowly, licking and sucking, trying to savor his little yelps and the jerk of his hips. 

His fingers threaded through my hair, and he sat up to curl his body around me. His free hand slid between my neck and his thigh, and he lifted my head up and off him. "What?" I asked, shifting a little so his legs were resting on top of mine. "Was that okay?" 

He blinked deliriously and nodded, leaning my head back to kiss me soundly again. He laid back down and took me with him. "Keep going," he whispered to me, hugging me to his chest. 

"Okay," I kissed him again, and he started to bend his knees, spreading his legs open for me. "Do you have the, uh --"

"Here," He reached over to his nightstand, opening a drawer and handed me a small bottle. I put some on my hand and put a finger into him, making him yelp. He pulled my face back to him and kissed me, moaning a little, then squeezed my torso with his legs. "Please," It came out as a whisper.

I added more fingers and kissed him again, this time on his neck with little bites and I flicked my tongue out. He leaned his head back and moaned again, digging his fingers into my back. When he was writhing beneath me and mumbling quiet pleas, I turned him onto his stomach, then replaced my fingers and pushed in deep. 

He yelped again, a needy squeak, and made his hands into fists beneath his body. 

I hugged him from behind and started to move in small, slow thrusts, making him moan and rock back into me. I held him close and kissed the back of his neck, and one of his fists uncurled and grasped at my hand. He pulled it under his body, so my hand was trapped beneath his chest. His head was turned to the side, so I kissed his neck and cheek. He reached back and held the side of my face, "Cas --" I loved it when he moaned my name.

He wanted me to show him. So I did. 

I flipped him around so I could kiss his lips straight on again, and I hugged our bodies together. He arched into me and wrapped his legs tighter around me as I thrusted, moving faster by the second. His head was thrown back and he made low, quiet moans. I reached a hand between his legs and kissed him again, and if I thought he was blissed out before, it was nothing compared to this. 

And then he was coming hard and he hugged me tightly, kissing me everywhere he could reach. Then his arms loosened and he fell back, covering his face with one hand and closed his eyes. I came and fell on top of him, and he started to run his fingers through my hair, and he whispered to me, "Thank you, thank you." When I came back to my senses a little bit, I lifted off him and sat up. He sat up to meet me and kissed me again. I held the side of his face, and just stared at him. He was, just -- I remembered the first time we had met, when he wouldn't touch me. Now he was thanking me for touching him in the most intimate way I could think of. "What?" He asked softly.

"Nothing," I smiled lightly. "Just looking at you."

He leaned in close, with that look in his eye, and kissed me again. And he didn't have to say anything.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! Comment if you feel like it -- I love hearing what you have to say.


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